


Rain

by loveatthirdsight



Category: Gintama
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveatthirdsight/pseuds/loveatthirdsight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in the rain and he offers her his umbrella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

-x-

It must have been the rain, she decided, for fate to treat her so cruelly. There aren't that many places where they will meet accidentally - it's rare to see her on the surface, and rarer still for a man like him to be in a place like Yoshiwara.

So she's unpleasantly surprised that, on a rainy day, their paths intersect. The rain had caught her by surprise; the newscast hadn't said anything about the possibility of a drizzle much less a storm, and the train that would have taken her from the outskirts of Edo to the red light district had been delayed a bit. She hadn't thought to bring a warmer jacket and it was getting a bit chilly.

Checking the schedule, she sighed. Was it more prudent to walk home in such heavy rain, or to wait here under a flimsy roof for perhaps an hour?

Unfortunately, Gintoki had stepped forward. "Oi. You got an umbrella?"

She turned around. "No. I would have left a long time ago if I did."

Neither of them say each other's name; there is no need. He lifted his own umbrella above her head. "Share?"

"I couldn't," she declined. "You're going in the opposite way."

For a moment his first instinct is to say, "Suit yourself," or "There's a convenience store not too far from here, you could buy and umbrella or two" - but then he realized he'd rather talk to her.

"I don't mind," he said, and without asking for her permission he lifts his own umbrella and walks a little closer to her. She regards him suspiciously, like every time they meet together, but sighs and says "Okay."

There isn't anything between them, she reminds herself. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"No. It keeps you warm, doesn't it?"

She nodded and lights up the pipe from underneath the umbrella, and then they set off for the red light district.

"What brought you here in Edo today?"

"I was visiting someone in the hospital." Now that he had taken a better look at her, he could tell that she was weary. "Who?"

"Nobody important," she said, breathing out smoke. "Just a friend."

"Someone like you has friends?"

She scowled, and he prepares himself for one of her special attacks. Instead her annoyance vanishes. "Yeah, very funny," she said. "Of course she was my friend. Just someone that shouldn't have been sick, that's all."

The two of them walk in the rain for a while, and he tries to think of something to say. But it's hard especially when the two of them communicate through their fists rather than words.

It's just different when he's with her compared to everybody else. One part is because she's beautiful in a way that doesn't stun him into silence; he knows that she carries her own emotional baggage and he sort of gets that in a way that he can't explain. Another part is because she's easy to understand. Tsukuyo is a straightforward woman despite her misgivings; if she's defensive, then it's usually over something that she cares about.

He might have liked her. It wasn't convenient at all and he doubted he would ever tell her, but the truth is, he never saw it coming. Feelings are like that; especially when he thinks there might be more to her than just another drunk terminator. Her smile is girly no matter what she tells him and so do her sighs and those softer gestures that she thinks no one else sees.

"What's wrong with your friend?" is what he comes up a minute later. If he was ten years younger he might have cursed himself for the awkward timing but this is Tsukuyo who doesn't give a damn about things like men asking about how she feels. If she answers than that's already a small victory for him.

"Syphilis," she says and waits for him to crack a joke at this. But he doesn't, so she continues walking and so does he.

"She didn't get it treated before it got really bad?"

"No. She wasn't a top courtesan or anythin' like that. Guess when ya don't pull any money any longer it gets a bit harder for you to get then help you need until it's too late."

"Will she recover?"

She stopped at the red light. "Probably not."

While they waited for the traffic light to turn green, a lightning bolt cracked in the sky, illuminating her countenance. A single tear fell slowly from her eye.

"Tsukuyo - "

"Just the damn rain, is all," she muttered quietly, brushing it away with a quick swipe of her sleeve.

It reminds him of what Hinowa said to him, a long time ago.  _"She's always burdening herself with other's responsibilities and walking alone. She's always there protecting all of us, but yet no one protects her. Beside everything… she's just a woman after all."_

The light switched to green, and in silence the two of them walked across the street, their boots splashing in the puddles of water that had accumulated on the pavement.

Spotting a nearby cafe, he figured it'd be better for both of them to make a quick stop before they continued walking any further.

"Hey, uh - I'm getting a little tired, myself," he said casually. "I'm gonna go in for a strawberry parfait. We gotta wait for the thunderstorm to stop."

"But I don't have any money."

"That's okay, I'll treat." For once he's paid on time. "Do people like you drink regular things like coffee?"

"What's  _that_  s'posed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing."

She orders the cheapest thing on the menu (a cup of hot tea), promising to pay it back. He says there's an interest charge of fifteen percent starting the day after tomorrow, but there isn't any playfulness to her soul - her retorts aren't snappy or anything that indicates that she's flustered. Today Tsukuyo can't be bothered to bicker with him.

Instead, the ash tray is settled next to her and she's staring at the window, listlessly resting her head against her hand.

His parfait arrives at their table. Gintoki sets it aside for once.

"I used to have comrades in the middle of war who caught tuberculosis," he said. "Things like that just happened."

Her violet eyes blink once and rest on him. Embarrassed at his random confession, he looked away. He wasn't sure why that was the first thing he thought was necessary to tell someone like her.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly.

Stupid, he thinks to himself. He always says the stupidest things to her.

She taps the ash off her pipe. "It's hard to see them witherin' away, isn't it? Knowin' that there ain't a chance to get better..."

He nodded slowly.

"She asked me to take her life," Tsukuyo said. "She said there wasn't any more point to her suffering alone, so it'd be better for me to make it short and sweet."

Out of instinct she touches her scar out of familiarity. The Courtesan of Death is a title she holds with bittersweet feelings. "I used to do that a long time ago, back before there were Amanto medicines in Yoshiwara."

"And did you ... ?"

"I said I'd think about it," she said in a voice that betrays her calm demeanor. "I just - I don't know. I just keep hopin' that there's gonna be a miracle cure for her, but even so... I don't think there's much of a chance. I'll be seeing her tomorrow and taking her to a doctor's office. And that'll be the end of it, I suppose."

He doesn't know what to say. He's taken lives before; the heat of battle had taught him all too well the precise angle of where it was easiest to slice a man's head off his neck and the sudden improvisation of what to do when his sword was no longer sharp enough to cut through bone and flesh.

But it had never been for the sake of enjoyment. It was Shinsuke who had decided the fate of those who died a merciful death; Gintoki himself had refused all responsibility to determine whether someone lived or died. The deserters had been slain quickly once they were found, and soldiers who were too weak to keep up were quarantined in special hospitals. Very few had asked for a swordsman to commit seppuku upon learning of their terminal illness; regardless Gintoki had wanted no part of it.

The ice cream and sugary syrup doesn't taste good any more. He can't enjoy a good parfait remembering those dark days.

He looks outside of the window and to his relief the rain has lessened to a drizzle. Good. He reaches out for a couple of dollar bills and figures that when he's in Yoshiwara, he'll buy himself a few drinks to forget about the war like the way he has for the last ten years of his life.

Instinctively she gets up at the same time that he does. Outside the door, she quietly says, "You won't have to walk me back. Seems like the rain is gone now."

"Nonsense. I'm not one of those flakey guys who delivers halfway."

"I'm strong enough to defend myself - "

"Which I have no doubt that you do," he interjected smoothly. "But you know this Edo weather. One day it could stop and the next ten seconds you'll be sinking into a puddle halfway to your waist. It wouldn't be right to leave a woman like you at this hour of the night."

"Wouldn't expect someone like you to care so damn much," she retorts.

"But I always have," he said quietly. She doesn't say anything to that. She can't. For a moment he lets his eyes rest on a beautiful woman longer than he should. There are privileges that one isn't allowed to keep, and his is glimpsing the thoughts and feelings of someone like her. And yet he can see her instinctively closing off again. The scars of Jiraia are carved deeper than the small indentations that run down the side of her eye and cheek.

All he does is tip the umbrella towards her head as they walk at their own pace towards the red light district. The ceiling above is smokey and rainy; the businesses are just beginning to open. The dim neon lights clash under the soft sheen of rain.

Hinowa's shop comes too soon for his liking.

"Thanks for walkin' me back," she says, pipe in her mouth. "My wallet's in the house, won't you wait for a moment?"

"How about a kiss?"

She turned her head and he expects her to throw a kunai smack dab in his forehead, but no such thing happens. After all, they are close together, still standing under his umbrella.

"Just kidding," he quickly says. Of course he's joking. He's been fooling everybody, including himself, ever since the city was clouded with love incense. It'd been months since he's tried to convince himself that he doesn't dream of her nights on end, that he wouldn't mind being hers and hers alone.

"You won't let me in there, will you?" he asked in even softer voice. "You've got your armor back on."

For some reason she hasn't moved from her spot. "I have no armor left," she says just as softly. "You've stripped it from me."

He strains his ears to hear her quiet whispers under the roar of the rain. Her essence and soul grows weaker the more vulnerable she becomes, and he'll have to claw it out of her. But it is there. He won't lose sight of it again.

"Whatever there is left... I'm yours."

His hand brushes her cheek and a thumb runs down her scars gently. He lifts up her chin, pulls her in for a kiss, and it is one of the most breathtaking things she's ever done in her life. All at once the epiphanies comes to her like lightning bolts, that she is kissing the Shiroyasha, quite possibly one of the strongest people she'll ever know, and that she is with the only man who's ever seen her as a woman with a beautiful soul. And yet he is gentle with her, never pushing for anything beyond her capabilities.

They communicate in the oldest language in the world, in a love that seems to skitter off their lips without needing to talk.

 _Did I help you forget about tomorrow?_  is what Gintoki asks if his kisses could speak.

 _I don't know_ , she returned.  _As if I know anything. But don't stop. It might help..._

_Tsukuyo..._

A light snaps on, and the shop in front of them reminds of the paralyzing reality in front of them. Her face is bright red, flustered from how shameless she had acted in public. It must have been the rain that caused her to become so love-sick.

"I should go," she says, and turns away from him.

"Right," he said.

And just like that, it is as if the encounter never happened. Still, he takes her hand and kisses the back of it with all the gentleness that he can muster and her blush creeps up on her neck despite the chilly damp air underneath the surface.

"I'll see you soon," is what Sakata Gintoki says with half a smirk and half a grin, and she doesn't know which one she prefers.

It must have been the rain, she decided, for fate to treat her so cruelly.

-x-


End file.
